


A (Censored) Doll's House

by LadyBrooke



Series: Caranthir's Babysitting Adventures [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Knives, Non-Graphic Violence, Sex Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caranthir is once more told to babysit, this time Galadriel, Aredhel, and baby Argon. Then the girls decide to ask him what sex is (while holding knives) and things go downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A (Censored) Doll's House

“Caranthir! Caranthir! Are you ready to play with us again now? Caranthir!” Caranthir was unsure what he had done to deserve this utter torture. Hadn’t his parents told Uncle Fingolfin and Uncle Finarfin what a bad idea it was for him to babysit anyone? His mother still lectured him about what a bad idea it was to put your younger (evil) brother and your even younger (insane) twin brothers in a cage.

But nooo-ooo. Everybody else (including the aforementioned brothers) were free to go happily do whatever they wanted, and he was stuck here watching Blonde Creepy Brat (also apparently known as Galadriel, but he thought his name suited her better), Thinks She's a Boy (also known as Aredhel), and Tiny Thing (also known as Argon.) At least Tiny Thing had slept through the entire time he had been watching them.

Blonde Creepy Brat and Thinks She’s a Boy were still being annoying. He hoped Uncle Finarfin didn’t mind the scratch marks on the inside of the pantry door, he hadn’t expected Creepy to have stock piled knifes in there and fought her way out, bringing Thinks with her. Just when he had thought that he would finally have some peace and quiet. And lovely, Creepy was still carrying the knife with her – and did Thinks have one too? Damn it. They were like those creepy kids out of the stories Grandfather always told about when he was just a young boy roaming around in the lands on the other side of the sea, and dark things had made off with elves, some of them only seen again when they appeared as spirits on the edges of camp. He was sure there had been a story about a time that young children appeared, only to stab the people who ran at them with knives.

In the time he had taken to think of all this, Creepy and Thinks had made their way up to him, still carrying those knives. This was going to be just brilliant for family relations. He could see the headlines now. “Fourth Son of Fëanor Killed By Younger Female Cousins” would be one of them. Atar would simply be furious when he found out. Of course, since he would be dead, it wouldn’t matter to him whether Atar was furious or not. Though, he hoped somebody would avenge his death.

Thinks was talking now. “Caranthir?”

“Yes?” He responded, keeping a close eye on Creepy. Who was staring at him. Again. With those creepy eyes that made him think she was imagining how his blood would look dripping down his throat.

“How do people make babies?”

He blinked. “Don’t you mean where do babies come from?”

Creepy answered now, “No. How do they make them? We’re not stupid, we know Argon came out of Auntie Anairë. So, how do people make them? And how do they eat in there? Where do they come out of, anyways?”

He blinked again and then scowled. "I am not going to explain that to you."

“Yes you are,” they replied, in unison and in monotone voices. That was exceptionally creepy, especially as they were both still holding onto their knives. Oh, did Creepy have a disciple now? That was very worrying.

Quickly, he pondered the possible effects of explaining to them. On one hand, if he did explain, Uncle Fingolfin and Uncle Finarfin might kill him for ruining their daughters’ innocence. On the other hand, if he didn’t, Creepy and Thinks might kill him for not telling them. It would be far less embarrassing to be killed by his uncles than his younger cousins, so explaining it was.

“Come on, let’s go see your doll house and dolls, Galadriel,” for once, he would have to refer to Creepy by name. He didn’t want to be stabbed over a nickname.

“Why?” They asked, still in unison.

“Because it I am going to explain, I am going to have the proper props. And that means at least two dolls (one of each gender), a house, and a bed for the dolls. Now, come along.”

The strange creatures followed him to Creepy’s room, still holding their knives. He wished they would have left them somewhere else. As soon as they entered, Creepy handed him two dolls and pointed at the house, before she and Thinks sat down on the rug in front of the doll house.

“Okay. So people make babies by fucking. This only works if both participants are of different genders, which is why I don’t have any nephews or nieces yet, which I’m quite happy with. While there are many, many different positions, places, and states of undress that people can fuck – otherwise known as having sex – for the purposes of this demonstration, and because you brought this up because you wanted to know where Argon came from, and thinking of these dolls as Uncle Fingolfin and Auntie Anairë is scarring enough without adding in weird sexual practice, we are only going to cover the perfectly normal way of doing this.” Both of them were nodding along, still in unison. He shuddered.

“So, both participants would take off their clothes,” while speaking, he began to remove the dolls’ clothes, “while in their own bedroom.” At this point, he became sidetracked. “And on a normal male and female, there are parts near their butt where the baby making occurs. However, these dolls are stupidly made and lack these parts. They’re called a vagina and penis, by the way. Now, the male and female will enter the bed, and at some point, the male will stick his dick – the aforementioned penis – into the woman’s vagina. And then other things happen, male gets excited and happy, and something called sperm comes out. This sperm travels through the woman’s body and gets her pregnant.”

At this point, Thinks cut in, "But what if the other partner is a boy, and not a girl? If the place that the dick goes in is only on girls, how would two boys do it?"

Caranthir wondered why they were this interested, though he had no intentions of answering that question. “Ask your brother.”

“Which one?”

“The oldest one, who is constantly hanging around with a certain brother of mine.” Caranthir said, exasperated. “Moving along, the woman is pregnant for around twelve months before giving birth. I, obviously, am not a woman, and have never really been told how this entire process works. But judging from the conversations I have overhead, it is painful. And there can more pain and other things if the baby is larger than normal.” Seeing Creepy ready to open her mouth, he hastened to add, “And I have no idea what your births, my birth, or any of our siblings births were like, so don’t ask.”

“Anything else?” They asked, still talking in unison. He really wished they would speak at least slightly different if they had to talk at the same time.

“No. Now, give me the knives, so I can go-” Suddenly, they were chasing after him with the knives. Apparently, that had been entirely the wrong thing to say. He finally reached his Uncle’s bedroom (where Tiny was sleeping) and barricaded himself in there. Hopefully, they didn’t explode the house or anything while he was stuck in here.

And then he heard it.

~

Two hours later, Fingolfin, Finwë, Feanor, and their wives accompanied Finarfin and Eärwen up the path to their house. The rest of their children all had plans to go stay elsewhere that night, and Finwë and Indis had wanted to see their three youngest grandchildren (when Fëanor had heard that, he had mumbled about one of his children being there too, causing Finwë to laugh and say that he wanted to see Caranthir as well, of course.).

“Ata!” Galadriel sprung out of the house, running towards her father. “You’re home!” After jumping up and hugging him, she ran and hugged Earwen as well.

Aredhel was the next out the door, calling out, “Ata! Amil!” as she trampled a few flowers, causing Eärwen to wince.

“Poppet!” Fingolfin boomed, picking his daughter up and spinning her around. “Did you have fun tonight?”

“Oh yes! Galadriel and I have been playing with a fucking doll’s house,” she said merrily. As she finished her sentence, Finwë began to choke on his breath, causing Nerdanel to have to hurriedly slap him on his back. Everyone else (except for Fëanor, who was trying to keep from laughing) was staring at the two girls in shock.

“Sweetie, we don’t say things like that,” Anairë finally managed.

“But Auntie, how else are the dolls supposed to have babies?” Galadriel argued.

“When did you learn how people make babies?” Eärwen wondered aloud, and then gasped when Galadriel answered.

“Oh! Caranthir told us all about it while he was babysitting.” At this, Nerdanel let out a shrill scream, and began to yell at her husband. He, in turn, took off yelling after his half-brothers, who were launching an attack up the stairs of Finarfin’s house, apparently planning to severely maim their nephew.

However, all three stopped confusedly when they reached the top landing and heard small sobs coming from Finarfin’s bedroom. Opening the door quietly, Fëanor then took off running across the room towards his son.

Caranthir was tied to the bed, completely nude, and sobbing. “Please don’t make me stay with them anymore, please. They’re terrors. Please, Ata,” he said, over and over again.

In between comforting his son by whispering to him that he would never have to watch his cousins again, and trying to untie the ropes (because Caranthir had only become more hysterical when he had brought out a knife to try and cut them), he glared over his shoulder at his brothers. They were still standing in the doorway in shock, Finarfin muttering “Oh Eru”.

Finwë and Indis appeared in the doorway as well, Indis’s hand flying to her mouth as Finwë rushed into the room to help his oldest son. When they finally had gotten Caranthir untied, he grabbed the cover and snuggled as deeply down into it as he could, leaving only his eyes visible. He darted one hand out to grab the set of clothes Indis offered him, which she had grabbed out of Finarfin’s drawer before picking up Argon to try and get him to quiet down.

When Fingolfin and Finarfin finally appeared to be coming out of their shock, Fëanor had finally managed to get Caranthir to calm down, though Caranthir refused to allow Fëanor to move away.

“They were so angry. And they had knives, and I didn’t even want to tell them how babies were made, but they still had those knives. So I used the dolls, but the male doll didn’t have the appropriate anatomy, and they wanted to know what it looked like. And I didn’t tell them, so they started chasing me with knives, and I locked myself in here. And then they climbed through your bathroom window and found me, and they had rope and they tied me up,” at this, Caranthir pressed further back against his father, apparently trusting that he wouldn’t let the evil children around him again. “And then they cut all my clothes off, and they had the knife so close to my private area, and then they were taunting me with the knife, and I never want to see them again! Ata, can we go home now?” Caranthir proceeded to curl up into a ball, forcing his father to lift him off the floor.

The entire time, Fëanor was glaring at his brothers. “Find out why your daughters thought this would be a wonderful idea, and make sure they don’t harbor any such delusional thoughts ever again. If I catch one of them tormenting any of my sons…” While Fëanor left the threat unfinished, both his brothers were aware that the results would be immensely painful for both them and their daughters. Fëanor waited for them to nod, before storming out of the house with his son, followed by a worried Finwë and Indis, who dragged Nerdanel out with.

When Fingolfin and Finarfin finally worked up the courage to go ask their daughters why they did that to Caranthir, the only answer they got was “Because we wanted to know what a real fucking doll’s house would look like, and he didn’t tell us.” Anairë and Eärwen, still unaware of what exactly the girls had done, stared in shock as their husbands slowly backed away shuddering.

**Author's Note:**

> Creepy children with knives inspiration from my own family (they outgrow it, eventually. Half the time it's a butter knife anyways).


End file.
